Chapter 240 - 23: Koko’s Alchemy: How the West German Mark Is "Created" (Part 1)

Chapter 240: Chapter 23: Koko’s Alchemy: How the West German Mark Is "Created" (Part 1)

"I’ve heard." Anna walked to the window, looking out at the night. "There are rumors within the Stasi that Helmut might be trouble. But there’s never been any concrete evidence."

"What kind of trouble?"

"It’s not clear." Anna turned around. "Could be embezzlement, could be misappropriating foreign currency, or something else. Von Brown wants you to investigate him, so he’s probably trying to use you to gather evidence."

"I know." Werner sat on the sofa. "The question is, what should I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Go through the motions," Werner said. "Look like I’m investigating, but not actually find anything."

"Why?" Anna came over and sat beside him.

"Because I don’t want to be Von Brown’s mole in Koko." Werner looked into her eyes. "Anna, you know as well as I do, once you’re labeled a Stasi dog in this system, it’s almost impossible to recover."

Anna was silent for a few seconds.

"But if you don’t investigate properly, Von Brown will suspect you."

"I know," Werner said. "So I have to walk a fine line. Investigate, but not too deeply. Give Von Brown some trivial information to make him think I’m doing my job, but nothing that could actually bring Helmut down."

"That’s difficult."

"I know it’s difficult." Werner held her hand. "But there’s no other way. I have to maintain a balance between Von Brown and Koko. I can’t lean toward either side."

Anna looked at him, her expression complex.

"Werner, are you tired?" she asked softly.

"Tired," Werner admitted. "Every day is about plotting. Every word has to be thought over three times. Every decision’s consequences must be considered. Sometimes I feel like I can’t hold on much longer."

"Then why keep going?"

"Because I can’t stop." Werner gave a bitter smile. "I’m already on this ship; all I can do is keep moving forward."

Anna didn’t speak, just rested her head on his shoulder.

The two of them leaned against each other like that, watching the dancing flames in the fireplace.

Outside, the night was deep. In the distance, a train whistle sounded, long and mournful.

"Werner," Anna said suddenly.

"Hm?"

"If one day, you really can’t hold on anymore—" She paused. "Tell me. We’ll figure something out together."

Werner didn’t answer, only held her tighter.

"I promise," he whispered in her ear.

Anna closed her eyes, feeling his warmth.

The firewood in the fireplace crackled, and the flames gradually weakened.

But in this small space, the two of them clung to each other, as if they could withstand all the storms outside.

At least in this moment, they still had each other.

That was enough.

************

Werner stood at a window on the fifth floor of Koko Headquarters, looking down at the sparse crowd in Alexanderplatz below.

The gray sky hung low, and the people on the street were bundled in heavy coats, their steps hurried.

"Werner, come in."

Gunter’s voice came from the office.

Werner turned and walked in. Gunter was sitting behind a desk piled high with documents, a cigarette between his fingers.

"Sit." Gunter pointed to the chair opposite him, a rare smile on his face. "I heard about that shipment of military-grade solvent last month. Nicely done."

Werner sat. "It was my duty."

"Don’t be modest." Gunter flicked his ash. "You know better than I do how tightly the West controls that stuff. Not only did you get it, but you were a week ahead of schedule. The guys at the munitions factory are singing your praises to anyone who will listen."

He paused, his gaze deepening. "Otto told me yesterday you’re the most capable young man he’s mentored in years."

Werner remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Gunter stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and leaned forward. "So I think it’s time for you to get involved in some of our more... core business."

The air in the office suddenly grew heavy.

Werner sensed that what they were about to discuss was no ordinary procurement task.

Gunter stood up, walked to the window, and stood with his back to Werner. "You’ve been with Koko for a few months now. You should have some understanding of our business. On the surface, we’re the Commercial Coordination agency, responsible for foreign trade. But in reality—"

He turned around, his voice low. "In reality, we are this country’s most important source of foreign currency. Without us, East Germany’s industrial system would have collapsed long ago."

Werner nodded. He was well aware of this.

"Take a look at this." Gunter walked back to his desk, pulled a file from a drawer, and pushed it in front of Werner.

The cover of the file bore a title in large print: "Inner German Trade Coordination Plan."

Werner opened the file and quickly scanned the first page. It contained trade data and policy clauses.

"Do you know what this trade is all about?" Gunter sat down again and lit another cigarette.

"I’ve heard a little," Werner said, looking up. "The special trade relationship between us and West Germany."

"’Special.’" Gunter chewed on the word, a faint smile playing on his lips. "That’s a good word for it. Let me tell you just how ’special’ it really is."

He walked over to a map on the wall. It was a map of Germany, with a red line down the middle splitting the country in two.

"In 1949, the Two Germanys were established." Gunter tapped the map with his finger. "Normally, as two sovereign nations, our trade should be like with any other country—collect tariffs, follow standard procedures, and settle accounts with real money."

He turned, his gaze sharpening. "But the West Germans don’t see it that way. They say the German people cannot be divided, that East and West Germany are one family, so we can’t be treated as a ’foreign’ country. And so, they came up with a concept called ’Inner German trade.’"

Werner frowned. "Inner trade? What’s the difference?"

"A huge difference." Gunter sat down again, flicking his ash into the ashtray. "First, it’s not considered foreign trade, so there are no tariffs. Goods from West Germany enter East Germany, and goods from East Germany enter West Germany, all duty-free. This means we can acquire Western technology and equipment at a lower cost."

He paused, lowering his voice even more. "Second, the settlement method is special. We don’t use real currency, but something called a ’clearing unit.’"

"Clearing unit?" Werner repeated the term.

"That’s right." Gunter pulled a page from the file, covered in dense numbers and clauses. "This thing is nominally equivalent to the West German Mark, one-to-one. But it’s just a number on the books. It can only be used in trade between the Two Germanys; you can’t spend it anywhere else."

Werner was beginning to understand. "So it’s a kind of virtual currency?"

"You could see it that way," Gunter nodded. "But that’s not the main point. The main point is—"

His eyes took on a dangerous glint. "The West Germans let us run a tab."

The office was silent for a few seconds.

"They set a credit limit," Gunter continued. "We can buy things from West Germany first, owe it on the books, and pay it back slowly later. And—"

He paused. "It’s interest-free."

Werner’s heart skipped a beat.

"Do you get it?" Gunter stared at him. "Interest-free. The West Germans lend us hundreds of millions of clearing units, equivalent to hundreds of millions of West German Marks, without charging a single cent of interest."

Werner’s mind raced.

’This isn’t trade, it’s a blood transfusion. West Germany is using this method to keep East Germany on life support.’

"Why?" he asked. "Why would the West Germans do this?"

Gunter gave a cold laugh. "Politics. They want to maintain the so-called ’national bond,’ afraid that East and West Germany will drift apart completely, afraid we’ll fall too completely into the Soviet Union’s camp. And more importantly—"

He leaned in a little closer. "They want to use this to trade for concessions. Humanitarian concessions, political concessions. Every time they want us to relax family visit policies, or release a few political prisoners, they use this credit line as a bargaining chip at the negotiating table."

’It was a transaction. West Germany was trading money for political compromises from East Germany.’

"And for us?" Werner asked.

"For us, it’s a lifeline." Gunter’s voice became pragmatic. "We lack technology, equipment, and raw materials. What the Warsaw Pact can provide is limited; the Soviet Union can barely take care of itself. West Germany’s precision machinery, chemical raw materials, and optical instruments are all desperately needed by our industry. Without this channel, many of our factories would have shut down long ago."

He stubbed out his cigarette, his expression becoming profound. "More importantly, through this channel, we can indirectly get our hands on West German Marks."

Werner already understood the deeper meaning in Gunter’s words.

"Koko is responsible for coordinating most of the Inner German trade," Gunter said. "Exporting East German goods to West Germany, importing West German materials to East Germany—it all passes through our hands. And within that—"

He paused, his smile turning playful. "There’s a lot of room to maneuver."